Little Boy Blue
by everytimeyougo
Summary: "Someday," she whispers, kissing his head, "If they decide to tell you the truth of where you came from, maybe you'll come to me with questions about your mama. I hope you'll be able to forgive her for all the things she's done. I hope you'll forgive me too." A series of short Sue Ellen and Christopher vignettes.
1. Sue Ellen

She's swimming aimlessly in a bathwater sea when she hears the baby crying, loud choking sobs that demand attention, getting louder and louder, drawing her to them. The sun-drenched ocean world around her disintegrates, leaving her in the dark, disoriented and confused. She opens her eyes and an uneasy heartbeat passes before she remembers where she is and to whom the arm across her middle belongs. She's still not used to being home.

"Christopher," J.R. mumbles now, his grip on her tightening as she tries to sit up. "Not John Ross. Go back to sleep, darlin'."

He's right of course; the difference is clear now that she's awake. But her child or not, the crying is getting louder, pulling at her heartstrings. Where are Bobby and Pam? Heavens, when John Ross cried as a baby, Pam was always in the nursery before she could even throw back the covers. They must both be out of earshot.

She shifts J.R.'s arm aside. "I'm just going to go check on him," she whispers, but he's already asleep again, snoring softly. She stands, pulling on her silk robe as she walks to the door.

Bobby and Pam's door stands open, the room empty, and Christopher is alone, sitting in his crib screaming when she opens his door to the nursery.

"Hello, little boy," she whispers, walking over to the crib. "Hello." The baby, quiet now and eyes wide in his tear-stained face, lifts his little arms to her. After a moment's hesitation she picks him up and carries him over to the rocking chair, settling him against her shoulder. Rubbing his back through his blue terry sleeper, she rocks gently to and fro as she so often had with John Ross when he was a baby. He's warm and solid and he smells so sweet, like milk and baby powder and love.

"Good boy," she murmurs in his ear, as he burrows his head into her neck. "Such a good little boy. Go back to sleep for Auntie."

Dear Lord, what will this child think of her when he's older? Will he hate her for not taking him in herself? It's for the best, she tells herself, and not for the first time. He'll be better off with Bobby and Pam and their loving marriage, no matter whose blood he is. Her relationship with J.R. is far too chaotic to take on another child, if he'd even agree to it, which of course he never would. And she's just not strong enough to do it on her own.

"Someday," she whispers, kissing his head, "If they decide to tell you the truth of where you came from, maybe you'll come to me with questions about your mama. And then I'll tell you how smart she was, and beautiful, and not afraid of anything. And I'll tell you she would have loved you so very much and she would've been happy that you ended up with such wonderful parents like Bobby and Pam. That's what I'll tell you."

It's partly true at least.

"And I hope," she continues, "You'll be able to forgive her for the things she's done. I hope you'll forgive me too."

Closing her eyes, she rests her head back against the chair and drifts back into her warm welcoming sea.

"I'm sorry if he woke you, Sue Ellen," Pam says from the door, startling her awake. "Bobby's out helping Ray with something, and I was downstairs fixing a snack. I guess I didn't hear him."

Her eyes open, the warmth and the water draining away until all that's left is a beautiful baby boy that has never and will never be hers.

"Oh," she says. "Yes, well, you need to be more responsible now that you're a mother, Pamela."

She stands, carefully walking over to the crib and placing the now sleeping baby back down, pausing to gently caress his soft baby cheek with one manicured finger. Blinking back the tears inexplicably leaking from her eyes, she turns around and leaves Christopher to his mother, out the door and back to her own life.


	2. Christopher

The best part about living in a house with so many grownups is there's always somebody around to give him a hug and tuck him in at night, even when his Daddy isn't home. Sometimes it's Grandma, and she's pretty good at it. He always gets lots of extra hugs and kisses from Grandma. Other times it's Grandpa Clayton, and that's good too, because Grandpa Clayton will always read just one more story. One time last week, Uncle J.R. put him to bed. That was kinda weird, but it turned out okay. He's not so scary when he's reading Dr. Seuss.

But his most favouritest person to put him to bed, next to his Daddy of course, is Aunt Sue Ellen. And that's who's putting him to bed tonight.

It's only the two of them at home tonight. John Ross is gone to a sleepover at his friend Ricky's house and all the other grownups have gone to a party. He heard Aunt Sue Ellen tell his Daddy not to bother Teresa, because she'd rather stay home anyway than have to go talk to bunch of boring oil people. This makes him so happy he thinks he might bust, especially when Uncle J.R. says she can't, she has to go, and then Aunt Sue Ellen says no because he's been doing all kinds of stuff without her lately, and so he can do this too, because she's staying home with Christopher.

_With him!_

After everybody leaves, Aunt Sue Ellen gets them a snack of Oreos and milk and they play Candyland at the kitchen table. He tells her John Ross says it's a baby game and then Aunt Sue Ellen says, "I know! He won't play with me any more either and it's my favourite game! I'm so glad you still like it." And then she gives him a hug.

After Candyland, he goes to have a bath, and brush his teeth, and put his jammies on, and then Aunt Sue Ellen sits on his bed with him to read a story. He picks out _Where the Wild Things Are_ and he sits real close to her so she'll put her arm around him. Aunt Sue Ellen always smells so nice, like flowers, and she has really soft hands, even though her pointy nails sometimes scratch him, but that's okay 'cause she always says sorry and kisses the scratch even when it's so small he knows she can't see it.

Then, after they read that book, and one more, and one more again, Aunt Sue Ellen tucks him in. She pulls the covers up to his chin and smooths them down, and then she leans down and kisses him on the cheek and whispers, "Good night, sweetheart. I love you." He closes his eyes when she says it and just for a minute it's almost like he still has a mom of his own.

"I love you too, Aunt Sue Ellen."


	3. Christopher 2

He learns the truth about his birthmother at a dentist's office when he's 15 years old.

His dad was supposed to pick him up from school that day, take him to his cleaning appointment, and then they were going to have a father-son night: a steak dinner and then go to the Cowboys game. But, it doesn't work out that way. Instead, there's a problem on the ranch, his dad can't get away, and so Christopher walks from school to the dentist's office, hoping that Bobby will make it in town in time for kickoff, but knowing he probably won't.

"Well, you know," he hears as he starts to push open the door to the inner office, "he's not really even a Ewing; he's adopted." The woman's voice is loud and disdainful, as if being adopted were something shameful. It's not; he knows that. It's what his father has told him his whole entire life. But some people are stupid. Still, he pauses with door barely cracked open, listening.

He can't hear the other person's answer, but then he hears the first woman's next comment clear as a bell.

"Well, you remember J.R.'s ex-wife, don't you? The drunk? Used to be Miss Texas? Well, what I heard is that boy is her trashy little sister's bastard. The father was some drug dealer from California. _His_ sister showed up years later and tried to get custody away from Bobby. It was all over the news."

The door in front of him closes with a slight click as his hand falls away from the handle. _What?_ No, that's not true! What the hell is she talking about?

He considers turning around and getting out of there, but no. He _is_ a Ewing, and no stupid, gossipy, lying witch is going to drive him off. Enough of this. He pushes the door open, all the way this time, and with a little more force than is strictly necessary. The two women at the reception desk jump as it hits the wall behind it.

His face flames red as he approaches them. "I'm Christopher Ewing," he says, as if all present were not already aware that of that. "I have an appointment at four with Dr. Tyler."

The witch, overweight and ugly, at least has the sense to look embarrassed as she directs him to a chair in the waiting area. From the corner of his eye he can see the other receptionist laughing and shaking her head.

He picks up a Sports Illustrated as he sits down, opening the magazine up in his lap but not seeing a single word or image on the page.

His birthmother is Sue Ellen's sister? Could that even be possible? Does Sue Ellen even have a sister? He tries to break it down in his head, sort his boomeranging thoughts into some kind of logical pattern. What does he know to be true?

The custody battle, she got that part right, though he only vaguely remembers it. There was a blond lady that was around a lot for a while, and then he had to talk to a judge and tell him he wanted to stay with his dad. And he does remember Sue Ellen being there, at what must have been the courthouse. Is that why? Because she's his aunt? His real aunt? Or was she just helping his dad? They had all still been a family back then.

As for the rest, he just doesn't know. He tries to remember everything he's ever been told about his birthparents, but there's really not much to go on. They both died when he was a little baby and then his parents adopted him. That's pretty much it. He's never really been interested in knowing anything else. He's asked many questions about Pam, the mother that abandoned him when he was six, but virtually none about the one who gave birth to him, not even her name. It's kind of strange now that he thinks about it.

But if what the receptionist said is true, how did he end up with his parents when his birthmother died? If Sue Ellen is his aunt, shouldn't she have taken him in? Wouldn't that have made sense? Did she not want him either?

Good job, Chris. Driving away mothers since 1981.

Tears prick at the back of his eyes, but he grits his teeth and refuses to let them fall. He won't give the witch receptionist the satisfaction.

When he was little, after his own mom left, he used to wish Sue Ellen was his mother. He remembers pretending that she was when she would come to school to pick up him and John Ross. John Ross would always shout out, "Hi Mom," when she drove up, and so he would too, but only inside his head, until one day, he accidentally said it out loud. Sue Ellen didn't say anything, like maybe she didn't hear him, but later, John Ross punched him in the stomach and told him not to say it ever again. He cousin was never very good at sharing.

And then, when he was seven, she left too, first Southfork, and eventually the country. He hasn't seen her since.

After that he kind of gave up on the whole mother thing.

Blinking, he pinches his thigh hard under the magazine until he can think again.

The point is, doesn't that mean it can't be true? Surely if he was her dead sister's kid, she'd do more to keep in touch with him than just saying, "Hi sweetheart," and passing the phone to John Ross, or sending him presents at Christmas and his birthday.

Wouldn't she love him or something?

Wouldn't she?


	4. Sue Ellen 2

She's spared from making the awkward choice between knocking and just walking in by her son, who still sees this place as home. He throws open the heavy door without hesitation and bolts into the house, leaving her behind, alone on the doorstep of Southfork Ranch.

Southfork.

In the time she's been away, it's taken on almost a mythical quality in her memory and so today, looking through the front door, it feels like she's just discovered Narnia in the back of a drab, old wardrobe: magical, overwhelming, more than a little frightening, but a lot like coming home.

She enters the house and closes the door behind her. John Ross is out of sight now, though she can hear him running up the stairs calling out to Miss Ellie. She stays put in the foyer, not sure where to go or what to do.

The house, what she can see of it from here, looks much the same as she remembers. It's been repainted, some of the knickknacks and wall ornaments are different, but overall, not much has changed. Not much ever does.

_She_ has, though. She can do this. She can be in this house and be with her family, because they _are_ still her family, and not become ensnared by old weaknesses. Enough time has passed; she really thinks she's finally moved on enough to be comfortable here.

Behind her, the door opens again, and she turns to find a tall, dark-haired teenage boy walking in, backpack slung over his shoulder, headphones around his neck. He stops and stares when he sees her, mouth slightly agape in surprise.

"Sue Ellen?" he asks tentatively, setting his backpack on the floor.

"Christopher!" she exclaims. "My goodness, look at you, sweetheart. You're all grown up!" Walking over, she pulls him into a tight hug before stepping back and holding him at arm's length, examining him closely. Her little nephew has grown into such a handsome young man, tall and lean, with thick dark hair and warm hazel eyes that look uncannily like the ones she sees in the mirror each morning.

Her smile fades somewhat when she realises how stiff his posture is under her gaze, his face uncertain and it occurs to her that really, she's little more than a stranger to this boy. He hasn't seen her in more than half his life. Dropping her hands from his arms, she takes a half step backward out of his personal space.

This is her fault. How could she let it happen? She should have invited him to stay with them in London on school holidays, should have come back to Texas to visit occasionally, something, anything to keep up some kind of connection to the only blood relative she has left, apart from her own son.

As much as she wanted to escape her past when she left Dallas, in retrospect, it seems that perhaps she's done too thorough a job. She only needed to leave J.R. behind, not everyone and everything connected to him.

"Is John Ross here?" Christopher asks her now. At least her son has managed to maintain a relationship with his cousin, but of course, he's been back to Dallas many times over the years.

"Oh. Yes, he's here somewhere," she tells him. "I think he went upstairs to find your grandmother."

"Great. Thanks," he says, nodding awkwardly, moving away from her.

"Christopher," she says, stopping him. "Do you even remember when I still lived here, when you were a child?" She's hoping there's still something, some memory she can build on to help them re-form a relationship.

"Sort of," he says, turning back around, but not really facing her, his eyes on the floor. "Not really much. I know we all used to be a family."

From upstairs she can hear John Ross' feet thundering across the floor.

"Yes," she says, hiding her hurt at his use of the past tense. "Well. I suppose you wouldn't remember much. You were just a little boy."

"Yeah," he agrees. "I guess. Um, can I…?" He gestures toward the stairs.

"Yes, yes of course. Go." There's time, she tells herself as she waves him off. She's only just come back. She'll take him to dinner, just the two of them, just as soon as she gets settled.

He smiles gratefully. "John Ross!" he yells, sprinting for the stairs.

Halfway up, he pauses and looks back down at her.

"Hey, um, welcome home, Sue Ellen."

She nods. Welcome home.


	5. Christopher 3

The tension at Ewing Energies is almost more than he can take. He's just finished his third cup of coffee and it's only a bit past eight. He's snapped at his assistant and even Elena threatened to hang up on him when he called her earlier, on her way to a meeting. Maybe he should have been a rancher. His father always told him he wished he'd figured out earlier in life that he was happier on the ranch than behind a desk.

But he's too far gone now, has too much invested. He has to see this through, no matter what the cost.

"John Ross, can we…" he begins as he walks into his cousin's office, but the head that looks up is not the one he was expecting.

Sue Ellen is seated at her son's desk, writing on a yellow sticky note with a thin, gold, ballpoint pen. "Oh, hi Sue Ellen," he greets her, bracing himself for the same cold response he had elicited from his aunt the day before.

"Good morning, Christopher." Her voice isn't as icy as it was yesterday, and he relaxes slightly when she smiles at him. Finishing her note and peeling it away from the pad, she affixes it to the screen of the laptop sitting open on the desk.

"Do you happen to know where my son is?" she asks, pushing the chair back from the desk.

"No," he says, glancing around in case John Ross has suddenly appeared. "I was actually just looking for him myself."

"Well if you find him, kindly ask him to call me." She rises and walks toward the door.

"Sure, of course," he says, moving aside to let her by. Touching him briefly on the arm as she passes, she steps outside the room. He hopes that whatever was going on yesterday is over with. He and Sue Ellen have never been that close, at least not since he was a small child, but he loves her, admires her for all she's accomplished, and he'd hoped to change that someday. He doesn't want to be at odds with her, and her attitude toward him yesterday had stung. A smart man would probably leave well enough alone. But the hurt little boy inside him just can't do that.

"Hey, Sue Ellen?" he says, stopping her. "About yesterday…"

She sighs and turns around, putting a hand on his arm. "Christopher, that was between myself and Elena and an investment I made in her some time ago. I'm disappointed in her, but it's nothing to do with you. I'm sorry I was short with you. It was uncalled for."

He wishes he could believe her, but he doesn't. A faint patina of disapproval is still there in her eyes, though she's trying to hide it behind a smile. True, her business deal with Elena predates Ewing Energies and it really doesn't have anything to do with him. But that's not what was behind her anger yesterday, and all of them know it.

In Sue Ellen's mind, Elena has betrayed John Ross, which means, by extension, so has Christopher.

And it's not like he can even disagree with her, because that's exactly what he did. He hadn't put the family first. Maybe he even deserves her disdain. There have been days he's wondered just what the fuck he was thinking.

But then he sees his Elena, the love of his life, and knows he had no choice. Jesus Christ, everyone knows it was always him and Elena, from the time they were little kids. Shouldn't that count for something? He doesn't expect Sue Ellen to choose him over her own son, but shouldn't she care, at least a little bit, about his happiness? After all, he's her family too, more so than anyone else, save John Ross.

But then that's the Ewing family's dirty little secret, isn't it? And no one ever talks about it, least of all him and Sue Ellen.

Maybe it's time to change that.

He opens his mouth to speak just as John Ross strides up to them, cocky grin firmly in place.

"Hey mama," he says, kissing her on the cheek. "Cuz," he adds, somewhat less enthusiastically.

He nods in acknowledgement. "Morning, John Ross."

"Christopher, my son and I have things to discuss, can you excuse us, please?" Sue Ellen releases his arm and follows John Ross into his office.

"Yeah. Sure. See you later," he says, but they're not paying any more attention to him, their heads together behind the desk.

He closes the door on his way out.


	6. Christopher 4

So this is what death smells like. He's heard the phrase before, in movies, in books, but he never really knew what it meant until now. He thinks he could have gone his whole life without knowing.

Standing back, slightly apart from the others, he really does not want a good look at whatever, whoever, is lying under that sheet. He's not even quite sure why he's here; he doesn't have the same relationship with J.R. that the others do. His father's older brother had been something of a shadowy figure throughout his childhood and adolescence, someone to be respected, but also feared, and he had been careful to maintain a certain distance. The man had always seemed somewhat disdainful of his young nephew's beginnings in life, and his lack of Ewing blood. Though now, as an adult, he's willing to consider the possibility that maybe he had just been too sensitive. J.R. was an acquired taste; now it seems likely he'll never have the opportunity to acquire it.

An entire lifetime passes in the moments before J.R.'s face is revealed, as pale and still as marble, and then, from beside him, comes a sharp inhalation as Sue Ellen starts quietly crying. John Ross looks angry, like he wants to punch someone, anyone, and he walks off with clenched fists to the back of the room. His dad seems to be in shock, motionless, staring at the body with hollow, haunted eyes. They're each caught up in their own grief, all of them too immersed in their private pain to see what's happening to the others.

He walks over and wraps his arms around his sobbing aunt, just in time to keep her from sliding to the cold concrete floor.

This is why he's here. He's here for his family.

It's what they do.


	7. Sue Ellen 3

"Thank you, Sue Ellen, but I mourned Pamela a long time ago."

She cringes when she hears Bobby's harsh words, delivered automatically and almost coldly. She understands where they come from; the place in Bobby's heart reserved for Pamela has been locked down so tightly, and for so long, it would take a conscious effort of will to allow any emotion to escape it. Self-preservation is a hard habit to break. She knows.

Her eyes dart to Christopher, who looks as though he's been slapped. She can only imagine how difficult this process has been on her nephew. He's lost so many parental figures already: Pamela, April, Clayton and Miss Ellie, and even she herself had all but disappeared from his life for a time, after having taken on something of a maternal role following Pamela's disappearance. And now, he has to feel as though he's lost his mother all over again.

Of course there's another name that belongs on that list, and it floats just below the surface of her thoughts, but she refuses to give it voice, not even to herself. Not now, she can't deal with those memories today.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she whispers as they walk to the study, her hand resting gently on his back. Pausing just outside the doorway after the others have entered, she stops and turns him to face her, resting one hand on his cheek. "After all this is over, maybe we can have a service for her. To say goodbye. There are still a lot of people here in Dallas who cared about her and would like to know what happened."

Christopher nods. "I think I'd like that. Thank you, Sue Ellen."

She pats his cheek and drops her hand, turning to enter the study, but his voice stops her.

"You…you cared about her, right?" He sounds as though he's all of ten years old and trying to reassure himself that it's okay to still love someone who has disappointed him so badly. That is something else she knows far too much about.

"Oh, darling, yes. Yes, of course I did. She was my friend in a time when I...well, I didn't make it easy for people to like me. I'll always be grateful to her for not giving up on me. And Christopher, your father loved her too, very, very much. He just..."

"I know. She hurt him. But still..." His voice trails off and she can tell he's dangerously close to crying.

She steps forward and wraps her arms around him. "But still."


	8. Sue Ellen 4

The lights glitter from far below, like diamonds bathed in candlelight. Memphis? Jackson? She's not sure what city it is, but from here, it's beautiful, reminding her of J.R.'s strong hands fastening a string of diamonds around her neck from behind, his breath hot in her ear as he tells her they pale in comparison to her.

A brief shining moment in their miserable marriage, but these days everything reminds her of him.

She never could sleep on a plane, but Christopher seems to be managing just fine. Somehow it's just the two of them, off to meet with some pseudo-important energy committee in DC, flying in former Barnes Global jet, newly repainted to Ewing colors. She never thought she'd be this involved in the oil business again, especially not at her age, but then, what else does she have to do? And anyway, not much in her life has turned out how she thought; why break with tradition now?

On the other couch, Christopher shifts in the semi-darkness and she can see now that his eyes are open. Not asleep, then. Just quiet.

"Aunt Sue Ellen?" he asks, his voice startling her. Aunt. The word sounds strange on his lips, the cadence a little bit off, like it's something he's just trying out. He hasn't called her that in many years, maybe not since before she left Dallas for London. She wonders if someone, J.R., or Cally, or even John Ross in a fit of possessiveness, had told him she wasn't his aunt anymore. It wasn't true, of course; their relationship was one of blood, not only one of marriage, but a young Christopher wouldn't have known that. Then again, maybe no one told him anything of the sort; maybe he just stopped all on his own. After all, she'd left him behind, hadn't she? She hadn't made any attempt to maintain a relationship with the little boy who looked up at her with such sad eyes the day she went to tell him goodbye. He wasn't her son, wasn't her responsibility, and anything else was just too hard and she was just too weak.

She clears her throat and answers, just a beat too late. "Yes, Christopher?"

He doesn't continue right away and she begins to wonder if perhaps he's asleep after all. But then the words surge forth in a reckless torrent. "What was she like? My mother?"

So quickly does he speak, that she has to silently repeat his words back to herself in order to decipher their meaning. When she does, she's surprised. They've had this conversation already, and recently. But people grieve in different ways and since grief is something she knows a bit about these days, she answers from the beginning, as though she's relaying brand new information.

"Pamela? Well, the whole family was certainly shocked when your father brought her home, her being a Barnes and all, but after a rough start, she and I became great friends. I…"

"Not Pam," he interrupts her, an unspoken apology slipping into the air between them. "I mean...I meant my biological mother. I meant Kristin."

"Oh."

And there it is, at long last. The question she's been waiting for since that day many years ago when Bobby called to warn her it might be coming. Or, truly, the question she's been awaiting Christopher's entire life. She'd almost convinced herself that after all this time, maybe it would never come.

"I've read the court records from when Lisa Alden was trying get custody of me," he continues. "I've talked to my dad about her. I know she did some horrible things. But she was your sister; you must have known her better than anyone. Was there _any_ good in her?"

His tone holds little hope for anything positive. She imagines Bobby told him an edited version of the story, but he would've had to include J.R.'s role in it. It was public knowledge after all: her husband's affair with her sister and the resulting pregnancy, miscarriage, and blackmail attempt with a different child, with Christopher. It's indefensible; she can't pretend otherwise, but that's not how she likes to remember her. They did love each other once, long ago, before either of them had ever heard the name Ewing.

"Yes," she tells him. "You're right; she did some horrible things. The last few years of her life she was very troubled. I… I don't know what happened to her; she had already changed a great deal from the child I knew by the time she moved to Dallas. Maybe she was taking drugs, maybe it was some kind of psychological issue, maybe that's just who she was destined to be; I don't know. After I married J.R. and left home… Well, I wasn't a very good sister to her, I'm afraid. She was still just a child – we were quite a few years apart, you know – and I was so desperate to be out from under my mother's influence... I didn't make much of an effort to see her. She probably thought I'd abandoned her." A long second passes as she considers this. "She may have been right about that. And I…I do believe she hated me for it."

Her stomach churns with thirty-year-old emotions. She remembers clearly the day she first realised her own sister hated her. It was during her pregnancy with John Ross. Kristin had come to Southfork for a visit, at J.R.'s invitation if she remembers correctly. She had obviously set her hat for Bobby, but anyone named Ewing would have done just as well, and neither woman had missed J.R.'s interest in his young sister-in-law. _I'll have everything you have and more. _Those were her exact words, uttered as casually as if she were commenting on the weather. But the hatred had been naked in her eyes and she knew then that her baby sister, the little girl she used to read to by flashlight under the covers when they were supposed to be sleeping, was lost to her forever.

But no. That's not how she wants this conversation to go. She's trained herself over the years to remember a different Kristin from the one she last saw. It's _that_ girl she wants Christopher to know. And as the only link between them, it's her duty, her responsibility, to help him see her.

She forces a smile to her face, though he probably can't see her in the dark, and continues. "But what's important to remember, for both of us, is that where she ended up is not the whole of who she was. Kristin...Kristin was strong, and she was fearless. Even as a small child. She was very different from me; I was always a people pleaser, did everything my mama wanted, but Kristin was different. She was headstrong and stubborn, and she knew what she wanted. I remember one time when she was maybe seven. Mama was out for the evening and I was babysitting. It was eight o'clock or so, and I had just put her to bed and was on the telephone talking to my beau when I heard a door slam. I should have put the phone down and gone to see what was going on, but I didn't. You see, Mama didn't approve of my young man – his family didn't have a lot of money, so in her mind he was unworthy of me – and I rarely got to speak to him outside of school. I didn't want to interrupt the story he was telling me, so I ignored the door."

While she speaks, Christopher moves from his supine position on the couch to sit with his feet on the floor and his elbows on his knees, watching her with rapt attention. The thin swath of light shining into the cabin from the cockpit illuminates his eyes and his thick dark hair, and just for an instant, she's back reading Nancy Drew by flashlight to her sister once again.

She coughs to cover the crack in her voice. "I don't know how long it was from the time I heard the door until I heard her scream. It could have been five minutes, it could have been twenty. I dropped the phone and ran out the back door. Kristin was crumpled in a heap on the ground under a big, old magnolia tree. She was lying on her side, curled up like a baby. One arm was tight against her body and the other one was…" She cringes, remembering the unnatural bend in Kristin's little arm. "Well, the other one was clearly broken. I ran over to her and that's when I saw it. She was cradling a tiny white kitten up against her chest. She told me later that she had seen him stuck up in the tree from her bedroom window so she went outside and climbed up to rescue him. When I knelt down beside her, she wasn't even crying. I guess she was in shock; she was as pale as a ghost, and all she kept saying was, 'Sissy, can we keep him?'"

"Did you?" Christopher asks.

She shakes her head. "Mama said no. She said that pets cost a lot of money and we needed every penny we had to pay my pageant expenses_." _ Digging her nails into her palms, she remembers the little girl's anger and despair. _I hate stupid pageants, _she had cried. She hadn't yet seemed to resent her sister, but perhaps that was the beginning of the end.

She finishes the story, detailing Kristin's bravery in being transported to the hospital in their neighbour's old pickup and how she had broken up with her boyfriend the very next day, too guilty to ever speak to him again. There are more stories like that one, decades old, half-forgotten memories from the childhood of two fatherless girls and their mama. They weren't a perfect family by any means, but then again, who was? They had loved each other though, each in their way.

Someone should know that.

"Thank you," Christopher says when she finishes speaking. "I'm glad I asked you about her."

She nods into the darkness. "You're welcome, sweetheart." She'd like to think that maybe somewhere, a little girl with a kitten in her arms is smiling.

Silence envelops the cabin and she turns back to the window. They've moved past the lights of the city; now she sees nothing but darkness. Hopefully, they're almost there.

* * *

**A/N**: That's all for now. Thanks for reading my little attempt at addressing the Sue Ellen and Christopher issue. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks everyone who reviewed. I truly appreciate it.


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